


Dandelions Under the Skin

by TheRealDanniX



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Jaskier POV, Jaskier is confused, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Friendship, M/M, Post canon, slight AU, that's literally it - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:55:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22916593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealDanniX/pseuds/TheRealDanniX
Summary: All right so perhaps it was starting to worry him. After all, most of his family wasn’t particularly long-lived and he himself lived a dangerous life. To be perfectly honest, Jaskier had expected to die within a month of joining Geralt. So, to be here, nearly thirty years later, relatively unharmed and not looking a day older, it was incredibly surprising.ORGeralt and Ciri notice their bard isn't aging and asks Yen's help to figure out why.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 29
Kudos: 887





	Dandelions Under the Skin

**Author's Note:**

> I have only seen the show (Netflix) and gleaned from the Wiki (and other fics) so no idea if this is anywhere close to possible.   
> But I had to get it out of my head.

All right so perhaps it was starting to worry him. After all, most of his family wasn’t particularly long-lived and he himself lived a dangerous life. To be perfectly honest, Jaskier had expected to die within a month of joining Geralt. So, to be here, nearly thirty years later, relatively unharmed and not looking a day older, it was incredibly surprising. As was his custom now, he checked himself in the mirror of the inn they were staying in, looking for wrinkles and grey hairs. At first, it had started as a compulsion of vanity, but now, he almost wished he saw the signs of aging. He no longer used the anti-aging creams and, to be quite frank, it was strange how that seemed to make him look younger. 

Normally he tried to keep his concern to himself. After all, neither Yennefer nor Geralt seem to age at all. In fact, the only one of their little troop who seemed to age regularly was Ciri. So of course, it was only natural that Ciri noticed. It was a normal day when the young Lioness was somewhere in her twenties, just as Jaskier had been when he first started traveling with his Witcher. Her days were filled with adventure and she rarely traveled with them anymore, having much more pressing matters. When she did, it was mostly to enjoy their company rather than to train. These days the training was mostly musical and consisted of Ciri and Jaskier setting themselves apart from Geralt as they went over scales and tunes on their lutes. 

After they finished playing, Jaskier had laid back on the grass, watching the clouds drift by carelessly. Ciri laid back beside him. “Can I ask you a question, Bard?” Ciri asked. 

“Certainly, little Lion,” Jaskier hummed tiredly. 

“Why don’t you age as I do?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Geralt says you’re a normal human like me, so why do you look the same as the day I met you, Bard?” She propped herself up and looked at him. 

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Jaskier shrugged. “I suppose I’ve just got good genes and a good skincare routine.” He turned to face Ciri. “Just let it go, little Lion. No good looking a gift horse in its mouth.”

A dark shadow passed over the pair. “She’s right,” Geralt huffed, towering over the two of them. “You don’t age.” The older man frowned down at them with bright yellow eyes fixed on Jaskier. 

“You just noticed this now, Geralt?” Jaskier huffed. It was not the brightest thing he could have said, but the man was utterly oblivious if this was truly the first time he had noticed the lack of wrinkles and grey hairs. Jaskier was nearly fifty and still looked like he was in his twenties. The older man reached out his hand, which Jaskier took instinctively. Geralt kissed him distractedly after he pulled the bard to his feet. 

“Come on,” his Witcher growled, pulling away. “Yen’s in the next town and we can see what she knows.” Ciri and Jaskier gathered their things, reluctant and slow, but they knew it would be pointless to try and argue once their monster hunter made up his mind. It was a short trip that was passed by the bard and the Queen swapping stories of adventure, which made Jaskier feel slightly less concerned than he likely should have been.

The mage was in the biggest house in town, as was her usual. At this point, all of them knew better than to ask how she had acquired it. She was waiting for them when they arrived, watching them with violet eyes from her door. Once inside, it became clear that Yen did know more than the Bard, but only marginally so. “Honestly, Jaskier, I thought you knew and were just hiding it,” she proclaimed. “I mean, every time I’ve healed you, I knew you weren’t exactly human, but I sincerely thought you knew. Why do you think I taunt you about your age?”

“Yen,” Geralt growled, glaring at the sorceress. 

“I certainly did not. I just thought I had a good heritage,” Jaskier huffed.

Yennefer shrugged. “You might. It’s just not necessarily human heritage.” Geralt’s glare intensified.

“You’ve said,” the bard hissed. “Is there someone who might know what I am or shall I be forced to continue to guess about it for the rest of my seemingly long life?”

“Hush your melodrama, Bard,” Yen hissed back.

“Your parents might know,” Ciri volunteered.

“Alas, little lion cub, if they knew, they took it to their graves.” Jaskier smiled wistfully, despite knowing that he cared very little whether or not his parents were alive or dead and had never quite been able to summon anything more than indifference to their passing. 

“How old were they?” Yennefer asked.

“I couldn’t say for sure. I was only twelve when my mother passed, and my father was killed around fifteen years ago. The only way of passing on for some hated the continent over.” Jaskier likely would have gone on but stopped himself when he caught the look in Ciri’s eyes. He knew she would do anything to see her parents again, even if she did truly love the family around her. “Don’t fret, my dear Lioness.” Jaskier took her hand with a gentle smile. “Some families are like that, but yours never was.”

Yennefer frowned at him, scanning him like he was a confusing spell or a particularly stressful client. Perhaps he was. “Jaskier,” Yen said carefully, “You were there when Ciri’s mother was engaged, correct?”

“Of course. I wrote an absolutely wonderful ballad about the occasion.” Jaskier puffed up like a peacock. 

“And before that, had you ever been to an event like that?” Yen pressed.

“There are no events like that one,” Jaskier huffed, “but, yes, it was not the first engagement of that sort I have attended, and it was certainly not the last.” 

“When did you go to your first?”

Jaskier stared at the mage, utterly confused. “Why on earth would that matter?” The bard crossed his arms. 

“Humor me, old man,” Yennefer prodded. 

“You are older than me by almost a hundred years,” Jaskier snapped.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled. The yellow eyes met blue ones and Jaskier had no choice but to relent.

“I suppose it was when I was eighteen. Though, to be perfectly honest, I don’t remember it. Young as I was, I got caught up in the evening's events and there was a great deal of alcohol involved. I believe it was my sister’s betrothal. All I truly remember was waking up to an empty bed and a horrible headache.” Jaskier winked at Ciri, who shoved down a giggle.

“You’re sure you were eighteen?” Yen had wandered over to a pile of books that were strewn about on a table where she shifted them, searching for something.

“That I am certain of. It was less than a month after my name day celebration. Though it may have been my cousin, not my sister,” Jaskier said thoughtfully, earning an eye roll from the Witcher and the Lioness. Though he enjoyed getting a reaction, he found himself more focused on Yennefer’s near frantic searching as she moved from the table to the bookshelf, shifting books and papers. She finally seemed to settle on an older book bound in leather with intricate designs. Her hands flew over the pages until she located one near the back.

Yennefer’s violet eyes gleamed victoriously. “I figured it out.” Then she held up the book as though it were the obvious answer to every question that was fliting through Jaskier’s mind. “How long after that did you meet Geralt?”

“Oh, well, it wasn’t too long. I suppose only a month or so. However long it took to get from Lettenhove to Posada.” Jaskier felt his face flush at the memory of their first meeting. The fact that he had ever considered letting the phrase ‘bread in his pants’ out of his mouth haunted him still. 

“Was he the first one you crushed on after the engagement?”

“Well, that’s a bit personal, but yes I suppose so. If not, he was certainly the most memorable.” He couldn’t help letting his eyes appraise the Witcher, who seemed to be trying to blend into the decorations of Yen’s study. Yennefer thrust the book into his hands, with a smug smile.

“You’re human, bard,” she said. “Your just in love with someone who isn’t. Read.”

Jaskier looked at the page she indicated and found himself frowning into the elder poem before him. “Should a match be made on the eve of spring be one of hearts true, a gift shall be given to the purest lover at the set of the moon. Lay with Spring and you shall find, your life as long as your love binds,” Jaskier translated. He looked up at Yennefer confused. “To be clear,” he said slowly, “you think that I spent a drunken night with the embodiment of Spring, fell in love with a Witcher, and gained a life as long as his?”

“I know it.” She had a dangerous glint in her eyes that made it very hard to doubt her.

“How?” the Witcher growled. 

Yennefer smirked up at the White Wolf, looking very much like a hungry wolf herself. “What do you always say he smells like, Geralt? Resin, ink, and Springtime?” She raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Hmm.” The two stared at each other fiercely. Jaskier kept quiet, despite the overwhelming urge to babble out his confusion, knowing that if he spoke, they would turn their glares to him.

“Of course, there is an easy way to check,” Yen said finally, looking back at Jaskier.

“Will it hurt him?” Ciri asked, placing a protective hand on her bard’s shoulder. It was odd having so many people who could easily snap him in two willing to protect him from whatever he may face, even if it was just a little pain.

“Not at all, lion cub.” Yen smiled sweetly. “As long as he holds still.” Her face was sweet, but her voice was sharp as steel. The bard gulped. She muttered something in Elder, just low enough that he couldn’t make out the words. Then she placed a hand on Jaskier's forehead and shoved him flat on the table he had been leaning against. He heard Ciri gasp and Yennefer let out a short bark of laughter, but he could see what they were reacting to with Yennefer’s hand still pressed firmly against his forehead.

“I suppose Dandelion is a fitting name for you,” Geralt muttered, sounding amused. Wriggling under Yen’s grip, Jaskier managed to get his hands, the only part of skin that was regularly visible apart from his face, to where he could see them. Twisting vines with yellow flowers covered every portion of skin he could see. He felt his eyes get wide. Then Yen let him go and the flowers disappeared. As he sat up, Geralt was at his side, gently taking his arm. 

“You probably have some flowers under your skin too,” Yen said, eying the Witcher. 

“Touch me and you will hurt for it,” he growled. Jaskier let out a laugh as he melted into the White Wolf’s side. 

All right, so he hadn’t needed to be worried. As long as the Mage, the Witcher, and the Lioness were around he had nothing to fear. Apparently, not even aging. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it.  
> Drop a comment and a Kudos if you did.
> 
> I can't tell you all what it means when there's good feedback.


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